Partners
by lost-in-elysium
Summary: Peter and Ava are assigned as partners for the classic egg baby project. When Peter screws up and Ava struggles to forgive him, they learn more about themselves, each other, and what it really means to be partners. Mild violence. REVISED.
1. Monday

**Partners**

 **An Ultimate Spider-Man Fanfiction**

 **Summary** : Peter and Ava are assigned as partners for the classic egg baby project. When Peter screws up and Ava struggles to forgive him, they learn more about themselves, each other, and what it really means to be partners.

 **/!\ Warnings** : Mild violence.

 **Disclaimer** : We don't own the characters or the cover image.

 **A/N** : Apologies in advance for any spelling/grammatical errors we didn't catch.

* * *

 **Chapter One: Monday**

Peter's daily race against the clock became an inside joke among the students of third period home economics with Ms. Nelson in room 118. We anticipated his arrival like jaded housewives with social lives sustained by daytime television and afternoon soaps. Will Peter make it on time, or be defeated by the clock and condemned to Saturday morning detention?

I glanced at the second hand speeding toward the twelve. Why wouldn't it slow down? I clenched the edge of my desk, stretching skin taut over my knuckles. _Come on, Webhead. You can't afford to be late again._

"Peter Parker?" Instead of "Here!" or "Present," her words were met by creaking chairs, idle chatter, and the whir of oscillating fans. _Typical_. I peeled myself off the chair, sweat plastering my shirt to my back. _Gross._ It was the twenty-first century and this school had yet to install air conditioners.

Ms. Nelson peered over her glasses, scanning the room until her eyes snagged on the vacant seat beside me. "Peter Parker? Are you here?"

Still nothing. My classmates and I exchanged glances, our faces reading the same question: Was Peter going to show up ten seconds or ten minutes later, or not at all? He always kept us wondering.

Ms. Nelson looked at her clipboard, pen poised to mark Peter absent. She sighed. "Well, then..."

 _Thump! Thump! Thump!_ Our heads swiveled toward the pound of feet outside the door. Nearly ripping the it off its hinges in his haste, Peter skidded to a halt in front of Ms. Nelson's desk. With his windswept hair and clothes, I would've thought he'd been standing behind a jet engine, but I knew better. He just won a hundred meter dash with a photo finish and hadn't broken a sweat.

"Here," he said as the door swung closed behind him. "Sorry, Ms. Nelson. I was -" The teacher raised her hand.

"I don't want to hear it." Lips pursed, she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a gnarled finger before they slid off. "Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Parker; I was about to mark you late." She jabbed her pen at him. "You better watch your tardies. One more and you'll have a date with me Saturday morning."

"I bet you're not too happy about that, are you, Parker?" Flash Thompson and his cronies guffawed like a pack of knuckle-dragging Neanderthals. I rolled my eyes. The joke was lame, even for him. Smiling, Peter turned to his nemesis and shrugged.

"Nah, it's okay. I had a date with your mom planned anyway."

That shut them up real quick. Snickers erupted throughout the classroom, and I bit back a smirk; Flash's expression was priceless. Before he had the chance to make a comeback I doubt he had, Ms. Nelson interjected, "Enough, Peter. Go to your seat."

"Yes, ma'am." He slapped Harry a triumphant high-five on his way down the aisle. He dropped his bookbag beside his desk with a _thud_ and slid into his desk, running a hand through his brown hair that fell into its natural part as he lowered his arm.

"You cut it pretty close," I muttered as Ms. Nelson resumed roll call.

"Hello to you too, Ava. What does it matter? I made it on time." He unzipped his backpack and plunged his hand into it. Candy wrappers and wadded tissues spilled onto the floor as he dredged up a battered textbook and crumpled papers from its depths. Eww...did his backpack double as a trash can? _Nas-ty!_ I shuddered. His hand dove in again, rummaging through who knew what before resurfacing, empty. "Hey Ava - whoa!" He nearly poked an eye out with the pencil I was offering him. _Your Spidey-sense hadn't seen that coming, did it?_

I smirked. "You're welcome."

He accepted with a sheepish grin. "Thanks."

"One more tardy and you'll be in detention."

He scoffed. "Ava, last time I checked your name wasn't Ms. Nelson." I rolled my eyes; Peter's flippant attitude was beyond me.

"Parker! Ayala!"

We snapped our heads up.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you two didn't talk while I'm discussing the final project."

"Sorry," we mumbled. I sank into my chair and Peter rolled his eyes as everyone redirected their attention to the front of the room.

Mrs. Nelson cleared her throat. "As I have told you before, we will be starting the parenting project - the final one of the course - today. The objective is simple: care for the egg and leave it intact until the beginning of class on Wednesday. You must also write a report about your experience. The formatting can be found in your syllabus on page three. If the egg is broken - if there is so much as a crack on it's surface - you will fail the project and thus, the course and have to retake it in summer school." A collective groan rose from the class. Who wanted to spend summer vacation retaking a course widely considered as a freebie? "And don't even think of replacing it with one of your own..." Ms. Nelson's eyes narrowed. "Because I'll know the difference."

"How?" Peter asked.

" _Shhh!_ " Did he want to incur Ms. Nelson's wrath a second time?

She clasped her hands. "You won't be choosing your partners." Another groan. "You will be picking a piece of paper out of this basket." She held it up for all to see. "There are twenty pieces of paper, numbered from one to ten; each number is in here twice. Whoever's numbers match will be your partner." She handed the wicker basket to the nearest student. It wound up and down the aisles, and by the time it reached me, a few scraps remained. I picked one and passed the basket over, stomach fluttering as I unfolded it.

 _7_

Everyone turned to their neighbors, eagerly asking one another what he or she had. Some got up to search for their partner on the other side of the room. Little did I know, I didn't need to venture far for mine.

I swiveled toward Peter, dreading the worst. "What number do you have?"

"Seven."

 _Just my luck._ "Me too."

"Sweet." He flashed me a lopsided grin. "I guess we're partners, then."

"Yeah. I guess."

I wasn't the only who noticed my lack of enthusiasm. "Hey, what's wrong?" Peter asked, frowning. "Aren't you glad to have me as your partner?"

Guilt engulfed me. "I am, Peter. It's just…" I regretted having said anything at all. Me and my big fat mouth! "I don't know. You seem to have a knack for screwing things up." What I really wanted to say was he was a giant goofball who couldn't take anything seriously.

"I do not! Give one example."

"Well, remember the time you brought the Iron Spider suit to the science fair and it ended up in the hands of Taskmaster?"

"We got it back though, remember?"

"It would have never happened if you hadn't brought it to school in the first place, right?"

Peter raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. So bringing Stark tech to Midtown High _wasn't_ one of my brightest moments. I was intimidated by Amadeus Cho, and wanted to prove I was smarter than him - that's all. But I'm still gonna prove you wrong, Ava. I will _not_ screw this project up. You watch." Twirling his pencil in a display of dexterity, he pointed it at me before it slipped between his fingers and onto the floor.

He reached down to retrieve it as I said, "We'll see."

The desk jolted; I jumped. "Ow!" Peter winced, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the underside of my desk on his way up.

* * *

At the end of class we received our egg - ahem, _child_ \- carrier included. On our way to lunch I addressed our most pressing issue.

"Name it?" Peter scoffed. "I am _not_ going to name a stupid egg."

I swatted his arm. "Come on! Be serious for once in your life."

"I _am_ serious - or at least I'm trying to be."

"This isn't _just_ an egg; this is a baby, our child! We have to treat it as such."

"Fine." He rolled his eyes. "How about Eggsy?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Uh, no. How about not? Hmm…" I tapped my chin, thumbing through my mental Rolodex of names. I snapped my fingers. "Got it! How about Victoria? I've always liked that name." Peter's face scrunched up at my suggestion.

" _Her_? Why does the egg have to be a girl?"

Raising a brow, I stopped in my tracks - forcing Peter to do so as well - and planted myself in front of him, arms akimbo. The stream of students eddied around us. "I thought you didn't care either way?"

He threw up his arms in defeat. "Fine! We'll name her Victoria. Heck, we can even call her Vicky for short. Can we get to lunch, please? I'm starving!"

"Fine. Let's go."

Almost everyone had gotten their food by the time we arrived, so we didn't need to wait long to get served. We grabbed Styrofoam trays, napkins, and plastic cutlery before jumping in line.

A shudder skipped down my spine as the lunch lady slapped a glob of unknown origin onto Peter's tray. _Splat_. The menu said chili, but I wasn't so sure. They didn't call it Mystery Meat Monday for nothing.

"You gettin' some of this, too?" she croaked.

"Um, no thanks." I opted for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple, and chocolate milk then joined Peter, Danny, Luke, and Sam at the table.

"Hey, guys." I set down the tray and carrier, shrugging off my backpack and dropping it on the floor with a heavy thud. I rolled my shoulders; carrying those textbooks really did a number on them.

"Hey," Luke and Danny said in perfect harmony.

Sam aimed his spork at Vicky. "What's with the egg?"

"Home economics," I replied. "Whoa, Peter! Watch out!" Maternal instinct kicked in as I whisked Vicky into my palm seconds before Peter crushed her to death with his food-laden tray.

"Huh? What?" Peter looked around frantically like he was expecting the roof to cave in or something.

"You almost killed Vicky! Can you at least try to be careful?" I cradled her in my hands as I lowered myself into a seat, heart still hammering from the near miss.

Luke elevated an eyebrow. "I'm guessing Peter's your partner?"

"Yep." _Unfortunately_.

"I feel sorry for you," Sam said. "You just started the project and Webhead almost screwed up already."

"No, I didn't. It was a mistake." Peter turned to me. "I'm sorry, Ava. I'll try to be more careful." _You'd better_. He set his tray on the table, but not before double checking that Vicky was out of harm's way.

"You're okay," I said as I set her on the empty space beside me.

Peter sat down and scooted his chair closer to the table while I did the same. "So, how is this going to work?"

"I was thinking we can alternate." I peeled the crust off my PB&J. "You know, like I'll take Vicky today and you'll have her tomorrow?"

He shoved slop into his mouth. "Fine by me."

I didn't know what disgusted me more: Peter eating mystery meat or talking to me with a mouth full of it. I eyed his lunch warily. "Do you even know what you're eating?"

Peter nearly choked on his lunch. Once he recovered enough to speak, his voice had turned shrill with indignation. "Of course I do! It's chili…" A slight frown. "I think." He shrugged and took another bite, smacking his lips with gusto as I swallowed bile. This was just one of the many conundrums of Peter Parker I could never quite solve.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! Chapter two coming next week.


	2. Tuesday

**Partners**

 **An Ultimate Spider-Man Fanfiction**

 **Disclaimer:** We own nothing!

 **A/N** : Many thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed this story and added it to their favorites; it means so much. We hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Tuesday**

I woke up the next morning, grinning when I saw Vicky survived the night. _Mission accomplished._ Before heading to bed the night before, I had secured her in my sock drawer, not wanting to inadvertently knock her off the nightstand as I fumbled with the alarm clock. In an especially good mood, I readied myself for the day with a pep in my step, prepared to catch whatever monkey wrench life threw at me.

I bumped into Peter, who joined me on my walk to my first - and least favorite - class, calculus.

"Good morning, Ava. How was Vicky? She didn't cry too much, did she?"

I decided to play along. "She was an angel."

"I'm glad to hear that because you don't look too _scrambled._ " He elbowed me in the ribs, snickering.

 _Oh no he didn't._ "Enough with the corny egg jokes, Peter."

"What? Is the project not what it's _cracked up_ to be?"

"That's not funny."

We stopped outside the classroom. Peter leaned forward, scrutinizing my face; his sudden proximity forced me back. "Are you sure? Because it looks like you're trying _so_ hard not to smile."

My lips twitched. "Still not funny." I turned my back to him so he couldn't see my smile. I neither knew how or why, but Peter coaxed laughs out of me when no one else could.

* * *

"Peter, I don't know about this..."

"C'mon, it'll be fun!"

"To Aunt May, it won't."

"It's just a joke."

"Yeah. A cruel, twisted one." On the way to his house after school, he divulged his plan. I failed to see the humor in it; it sounded downright diabolical if you asked me.

We stood on Peter's front porch. My friend gazed down at me from the top step, keys jangling as he lazily twirled the carbiner around his finger. "Come on, Ava. Lighten up! It'll be fun."

I balked. "Peter..."

He dropped to his knees, hands clasped in front of him. "Please, Ava. Pretty please with a bow on top? Please, please, please..." He sounded like a broken record. I glanced over my shoulder to see a middle-aged man gaping at us as his Boston Terrier dragged him down the sidewalk.

I whipped toward Peter. "Alright, alright! I'll do it." _If only to shut him up._ "Will you stand up, please? You're making a scene."

A grin almost split his face in two. "Thanks, Ava. You're awesome. Just follow my lead." He turned his back to me, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. I followed him inside, sick to my stomach.

"Aunt May, I'm home! I brought Ava, too."

A woman with cropped white hair emerged from the kitchen. While most people her age were well on their way to retirement, at sixty-five years old Aunt May was in the prime of her life with no intention of slowing down.

"Hello, Ava. How are you doing today?" She beamed at us. Guilt lanced through me, knowing her smile would be annihilated in ten, nine, eight...

"Hi, Aunt May. I'm fine. And you?" I kept my hands behind me as Peter slung an arm over my shoulders.

"I'm just fine and dandy. How about you, Peter?"

"Guess what, Aunt May? You're going to be a great-aunt!"

She blinked. "Excuse me?" Her eyes bulged, the irises rimmed with white. I bounced from foot to foot. Peter clasped me against him to drive his point home. With the urge to squirm stronger than ever, I mustered every ounce of willpower to resist it.

"You heard me. Ava and I are going to be parents." Aunt May looked from Peter, to me, then back again. A fly could have flown into her mouth and she wouldn't have noticed.

"Peter, what were you thinking?!" she shrieked. "I raised you better than this!" She turned to unleash her fury on me. "And Ava, how could you let this happen? _You_ were raised better than this! So smart, so studious...How are you two going to provide for the baby? Neither of you have jobs! And what about college?" Her eyes drifted back toward Peter. "Your Uncle Ben always emphasized the importance of continuing your education. What are we going to do?" She closed her eyes and clutched her head to keep it from exploding.

"Aunt May, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" I recoiled at her outburst. Witnessing the ever unflappable Aunt May lose her cool terrified me.

Peter sighed. "Aunt May, _this_ is our child." He nudged me in the ribs - my cue. I thrust out the basket holding Vicky.

She stared at it for a good minute before bursting into laughter and slumping against the wall, giddy with relief. "Ah, the classic egg baby project. Thank goodness! You almost killed your Aunt May!" She clasped one hand to her chest as she brushed away tears with the other. Eventually she sobered up. "But in all seriousness, you and Ava aren't…"

As Peter opened his mouth to reply, I answered for him. "Uh, no! We're just friends, nothing more." I stepped away from him to emphasize my point.

She nodded. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure. But if you want to date her, Peter, I certainly wouldn't mind. Ava's earned my stamp of approval." She winked and gave us a huge thumbs up.

Peter's face resembled a tomato. "Aunt May, please!"

"Okay, okay." She chuckled. "I'll let you two get to work."

"Thank you." By the time he ushered me into the living room, his face had reverted to its natural shade.

It was my time to laugh. "You were red as a beet back there! Didn't expect your plan to backfire, did you?"

"It didn't backfire! I'm pretty sure you would have reacted the same way had you been in my shoes."

I shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Whatever. Let's get started."

We settled in the living room, using the coffee table as a makeshift desk. We designated a corner of the table for Vicky so we could both keep an eye on her. Always the pessimist, I feared someone might step on her by accident. Peter insisted that wouldn't happen, but, unwilling to take any chances, I refused to compromise. We bickered for a few minutes before he caved.

"'How has the egg baby project changed your perspective of parenting?'" Peter turned to me, fingers hovering over the keyboard of his laptop. The blinking cursor on the screen intimidated me, but I knew we'd gain momentum once we got started. "What do you think?"

"Hmmm...It has certainly made me more vigilant," I said as he tapped a staccato rhythm against the keys with the velocity of machine gunfire. "And a _lot_ more cautious. The basket had become an extension of myself - an extra appendage. You need to get used to having it - her - there."

He nodded. "Yeah. There were a couple times when you forget about her."

"What do you think about being a dad?" I asked.

"It's...different. Like you said, it takes some adjusting."

Aunt May poked her head into the living room. "You two okay?"

"We're fine, Aunt May. Thanks," Peter said.

"Well, I made sandwiches." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I wrapped them up and put them in the fridge. When you get hungry, help yourselves."

"Thanks." She bestowed us with a radiant smile before retreating to the den while we persisted with the paper for another hour before Peter finally had enough.

He closed his laptop. "I can't take this anymore. If I write one more sentence, I swear my head is going to explode! Lunch break?"

"Yep." My stomach grumbled its assent. I glanced at the clock. With Peter being such a goofball, I was surprised to see him behaving and getting things done. One final comb through and our assignment should be print ready.

Peter sprang to his feet and headed toward the kitchen. "Great."

Stifling a yawn, I stood, arching my back and raising my arms over my head to stretch out the kinks in my legs and lower back. I swiped the egg carrier off the table and followed my partner into the kitchen. I set Vicky on the table, who looked on with big eyes fringed with feathery eyelashes I had drawn on with permanent marker. Peter had already set out the platter of turkey, cheese, lettuce and tomato sandwiches and was pouring milk into a second glass when I walked in.

"Thanks." I plopped down into a chair as he set our plates on the table.

Peter returned the milk to the fridge and slid into the seat opposite me. "No problem."

My eyes rolled in delight as I sunk my teeth into the sandwich. "Mmm...You're aunt and her sandwiches are awesome." With his parents and uncle dead, Aunt May was the only person left for Peter to call family. But that was more than what I had, and I envied him for it.

"Yeah, she's something else, isn't she?"

I nodded.

"This project isn't too bad."

"Yeah."

"One more day and we'll be done. This project is a piece of cake!" Peter tore into his sandwich.

"Don't get complacent, now."

He swallowed. "Why should I? We're going to get an A on this project! We'll be fine."

"Don't say things like that! It's a jinx."

He frowned. "Uh, what?"

"Don't say we'll be fine because now something bad will happen."

"You really are superstitious, huh?"

"With good reason." I drained my cup in one swig, got up, collected the dirty dishes, and deposited them in the sink. Turning on the faucet and squirting dish soap onto a plate, I grabbed a sponge and started washing.

I glanced over my shoulder when a knock sounded at the front door minutes later. "Expecting someone?"

Peter, who had been walking out of the kitchen after helping himself to seconds, turned, his hand resting on the doorjamb. "Yeah. I invited the guys over. We were going to play some video games and stuff. You staying?"

"No, thanks." The problems assigned for my calculus homework weren't going to solve themselves. Besides, even if my evening was free, I wouldn't spend it at teen boy central. Sighing, I placed the last dish on the rack, wiped my hands dry on a frayed dish towel, and returned to the living room, setting Vicky on the table to pack up. My friends had gathered by the front door when I entered the foyer, barring the way.

"Hey, Ava!" Danny, Luke, and Sam greeted in unison, turning toward me as I approached.

I raised my chin in acknowledgement. "Hey, guys."

"Are you playing _Zombie Apocalypse_ with us?" Sam held up a video game case depicting a legion of the undead, reaching toward me with half his face rotting off and his left eye dangling out of its socket by a strand of sinew.

"Whoa!" Peter exclaimed, snatching the case out of Sam's hands. "This game came out yesterday and you already have it? That's what's up." His glee reminded me of a child unwrapping presents on Christmas morning as he flipped it over and started reading the synopsis.

"How about _Alien Invasion?_ " Danny asked, presenting it with a flourish. This case featured a green, big-headed, beady-eyed alien with a flying saucer floating in the background.

I grimaced. "No, and no. Unlike you, I actually choose to do my homework. You guys enjoy yourselves."

Luke raised his broad shoulders in a shrug. "Your loss."

"See you tomorrow, Ava." Peter stepped aside, granting me passage.

"Bye. Take good care of Vicky!"

My partner stood at attention and snapped a salute. "Will do."

"See you guys tomorrow."

"See you," said Luke, Danny, and Sam.

I crossed the threshold then stopped, frozen with worry. Abruptly I spun around and wedged my foot between the door and its frame before it closed fully.

"What?" Peter yanked it back open, looking at me quizzically.

"You'll keep a close eye on her, won't you?"

"Chillax, Ava. Everything will be fine. I won't lose track of her. I promise."

"You promise?"

He puffed his chest and laid a fist over his heart, reminiscent of a noble warrior making a solemn vow. "On my life." He lowered his arm, chest deflating. "Go home, Ava. I've got it all taken care of."

"Maybe I'll just stick around and watch you guys play games." I tried sidling through the gap.

His face slackened. "You're stalling."

"Am not!"

"Don't deny it." He frowned, placing a hand over his heart as if my words literally pained him. "Ava, I'm a little hurt that you doubt me. I live a double life as a superhero; I think I can handle watching over an egg. She already survived a day of school with me." _But I was with you the majority of the time._ "Have a little faith."

I should invest more faith in him. "Fine." I backed away, raising my hands in surrender. "You're right. I'm sorry, Peter. I'll let you do your thing."

He smiled. "Thanks. See you tomorrow."

The door shut in my face with a sense of finality, filling my heart with misgiving. I stared at the brass knocker. This would be the first time I entrusted Vicky entirely to Peter's care. Was he capable of watching over an egg? I stood there a moment, torn between barging into Peter's house and taking Vicky back or letting go and heading home. Shaking my head to clear the negative thoughts crowding it, I started down the porch steps. I was such a worrywart! The project was due in less than twenty-four hours. Nothing could possibly go wrong until then, right?

 _Right?_

* * *

 _Later that evening..._

Peter walked into the living room with an armful of snacks and a bag of corn chips clenched between his teeth. He opened his mouth; the bag dropped onto the couch beside Luke.

"Sorry, there weren't any more cheese curls so I got corn chips instead -"

 _Crack_.

Sam tore his eyes from the television. "What was - oh. _Oh_." His eyes widened.

The room fell silent, the air thick with apprehension. Everyone looked at Peter, then four pairs of eyes landed on his sneakers. Peter picked his foot up off the crumpled basket and shell fragments lying on the carpet.

"Oh, no." He dumped the snacks onto the couch and knelt down, sweeping the debris into his hand. "No, no, no…" He snapped his head up to glare at each of his friends in turn as he sought out the culprit. "Who put Vicky on the floor?!"

Danny flinched. "Uh, I did? Sorry, dude. She was taking up space and I needed room to set up the XBOX."

"Not that it matters," Luke said.

" _Dude_." Sam smirked; tension dissipated in an instant. "Ava is _so_ going to kill you!"

Danny shook his head. "You are a dead man, Peter. A dead man." _Yeah_ , Peter thought, _because of you!_

Luke added, "We'll start planning your funeral."

"Maybe you can glue it back together?" Sam busted out laughing at his suggestion.

"Guys, be serious! What am I gonna do?" Peter twined his fingers in his hair and pulled at their roots with an exasperated grunt. Too bad winding back the hands of time was not among his superpowers.

"You'll have to tell her, of course." Luke said as he tore open a bag of chips and plunged a massive hand into it.

"Are you sure you want to do that alone? We'll come with you for moral support," Sam said once he regained his breath.

 _Yeah, right,_ Peter thought. _The only reason Sam wants to come is to see me get my butt whooped._

"And, what, the project's due tomorrow? You're totally screwed!"

Peter glowered at them. "You guys _so_ aren't helping. Just leave, okay?" He snatched the bag of chips out of Luke's hand. His friend bolted upright in his seat, eyebrows raised, mouth forming an 'O' in surprise.

"Hey! I wasn't finished with that!"

Ignoring him, Peter marched to the front door and wrenched it open, one hand on the doorknob he refrained from squeezing into a metallic lump. He flung an arm toward the porch. "Get out!"

His friends exchanged glances, then, in a silent surrender, set aside their controllers and left without another word. The pictures on the wall rattled as Peter slammed the door behind them. Leaning against it, he slid to the floor, clutching his head.

 _What am I going to do? Ava's gonna kill me!_

* * *

 **A/N** : Thanks again for all of your support! It is greatly appreciated. Please let us know what you think. We gladly accept positive and negative feedback because it helps us become better writers.

Chapter three coming next week.


	3. Wednesday

**Partners**

 **An Ultimate Spider-Man Fanfiction**

 **Disclaimer** : We own nothing!

 **A/N** : Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter two and favorited/followed us and this story! We hope you enjoy the last chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Wednesday**

 _Riiiiiing! Uh-oh._ The two minute warning bell. I hastily unlocked my locker, my heart sinking when I noticed my calculus textbook wasn't on the shelf.

"Crap." I must have left it on the Tricarrier with my notes. No wonder my bag felt ten pounds lighter.

Peter sagged against the adjacent locker, looking oddly glum. "Hi."

I glanced at him before resuming my search for my calc book. If push came to shove, I could always borrow one, but I preferred my own notes. Peter's would suffice, but his chicken scratch could be deciphered only by him, and even that wasn't guaranteed.

"Hey, Ava. Can we talk?"

"Sorry, Peter. A little busy. I'm about to be late for class so the conversation will have to wait."

"I don't think this can."

Something about his voice was off. I peered around the locker at him, narrowing my eyes; both his hands were behind his back. My gaze drifted past his left shoulder. The rest of the gang lingered a few yards back on the opposite side of the hall, watching Peter and I with anticipation.

"Where's Victoria?"

He massaged the back of his neck with his left hand, his right still behind him. I leaned sideways for a glimpse of what he held, but he twisted his torso so it remained obscured.

"Well, about that…" I knew at that moment he was going to launch into a long, convoluted, story to evade the truth.

"Did you kill Vicky?" I asked point-blank. _Stay calm, Ava._

"Well, I didn't _kill_ her per se… I sort of, kind of, stepped on her." He winced, bracing for impact. Relieved I didn't slap him as expected, he pulled his other hand out from behind him.

My jaw dropped. Of all the things that could have happened to the egg, he _stepped_ on her? I couldn't believe our luck - or lack thereof. I wrapped my arms around me, kneading their taut muscles. "How exactly did this happen? Why was Vicky on the floor in the first place?"

His confession tumbled out. "Let me explain. It was an accident. After you left, I went to grab snacks for the guys but then I realized Vicky wasn't with me. I didn't know Danny had set Vicky on the floor to make room for the XBOX until I, you know...And I was momentarily distracted by the snacks. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going...I didn't know someone had put her there until-"

"You crushed her with your shoe," I finished for him. A volcano on the brink of erupting, I clenched my hands to keep them from yanking my hair out. "Ugh, Peter! Why would you do that? You should have set her on the coffee table or something."

 _Riiiiiing!_ I was officially late. _So long, perfect attendance record._

He blew out a breath. "I know, and I did, but..."

"But what?"

Cowering, he raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, cut me a break! My frontal cortex isn't fully developed yet. I had a lapse in judgement."

"My frontal cortex isn't fully developed, either, but even I know you really should not have left her unattended - that's how you lose track of her!" I knew I shouldn't have ignored that hunch! The only person I could be sure of doing anything right was myself.

Peter scoffed. "I didn't! Sam, Danny and Luke were in the room with her when I left to get snacks." He glared over his shoulder, where our friends (namely Sam) were enjoying the spectacle we were making of ourselves; I paid them no mind.

" _And_? You still broke the egg, Peter. Which means we failed the project and the class. Which means we need to take the class all over again. This is all your fault. You're such an idiot! Ugh...I knew I shouldn't have given Vicky to you that day." It took everything in me not to wallop him upside the head then. _Great._ Peter had killed my GPA, and now I wanted to kill him.

"Please don't," he said with a grimace. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry. Doesn't. Cut it." I forced the words through gritted teeth. "We can't replace the egg!" Peter didn't get it, and I doubted he ever would. He spewed apologies until I raised a hand to silence him. "Please, don't say any more." I slammed my locker and stalked away before my fist could embed itself into his face.

Congrats, Webhead. You just earned top spot on my _least favorite people_ list.

* * *

Ms. Nelson ended class with a lecture on the egg representing the fragility of life and blah, blah, blah, which went in one ear and out the other. My mind was on the after, when we had to turn in Vicky (or what remained of her) and our essay.

The bell rang, liberating us for lunch and me from the thoughts plaguing me all morning. After our classmates surged toward Ms. Nelson's desk to submit, Peter and I trudged up to her last, resigned to our fate. He reluctantly presented our egg baby to the teacher.

"My goodness!" she exclaimed. "What have you done?"

"I, er, stepped on her." I glowered at Peter as he looked at the floor, unable to meet Ms. Nelson's eyes. _Good_. He should wallow in shame.

No further explanation necessary. "I'm sorry, but both of you failed. I'll see you two in summer school." She snatched our rubrics out of our hands, writing and drawing a circle around a huge F on them both in angry red ink before thrusting them into our chests. I gawked at the eyesore on the top right corner my paper. F meant failure. I had never failed anything in my life.

"You too," I mumbled, then turned my back to them both and shuffled out of class and down the hall.

"Ava-" Peter called after me.

I intended to sound to angry, but the words came out weary and defeated. "Please, don't follow me." I was grateful he didn't.

* * *

A dozen texts and missed calls from Peter were sitting in my voicemail when I checked my cell on my way to the Tricarrier. I raised the phone to my ear to listen to his latest message.

 _Ava, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I know you're mad, and I know you probably never want to talk to me again, but can you at least let me know you're alright? I'm worried about you. Call me as soon as you get this message...Bye._

I emptied my voicemail and deleted his texts. I felt horrible leaving Peter in the dark, but I couldn't bring myself to do anything, much less talk to him or attend Fury's training session.

 _Knock. Knock_. _Knock_.

I dragged my butt out of bed to answer the door.

"What do you want?"

Sam frowned, expecting me in my White Tiger getup, not a graphic tee and sweats. "Um...aren't you coming to practice? It starts in five minutes and you still aren't dressed."

I tried to ignore the fluffy pillows and blankets calling my name. "I don't think so, guys."

"Well, what do you want us to say?" Luke asked. "That you're too bummed about failing that project to do anything else?"

I flinched. "Ouch." The explanation sounded better in my head. Fury wouldn't give a rat's behind, either way. Unless you were dead, he expected you there - no ifs, ands, or buts about it. "Fine, I'll go. Give me a minute." Five minutes later, I was sulking at the Tricarrier's conference room table as the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. delineated today's agenda.

"We'll be working in smaller groups today. Peter and Ava, you'll be our group of two and are up first. In your positions!" Fury spun on his heel and marched out. Could my day get any worse? I hauled myself out of my chair and glanced at Peter, who flashed a grin I didn't return.

"Ready, Ava?" His nervous chuckle failed to alleviate tension as he pulled on his mask.

I brushed past him and through the automatic doors of the simulation chamber. "Always." I walked to the far side of the room before giving Fury the thumbs-up he had been waiting for behind the window. I wriggled my fingers in anticipation as I settled into a defensive stance, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

Automatons sprouted from the floor with Fury's press of a button. I lunged toward one, clawing out hardware and wire innards. Its red eyes winked out as it crumpled to my feet. _Terminated._

I jumped up, gloating over the small victory when one crashed onto my back, pinning me to the ground. I bucked like a bronco, straining to get it off. With a ferocious roar, I rolled with it in an attempt to crush it with sheer bulk and strength, but the stupid thing had latched itself on. A mechanical arm wrapped around my neck and squeezed. Panic seized me, but I didn't dare call Peter's name. I didn't need him; I could handle this myself.

"Ah!" I couldn't escape the bot's tenacious hold. Three more were barreling toward me and I still hadn't gotten the last one off. I craned my neck and saw robots swarming Peter like bees in a hive; he had neither the room or time to swing himself out. _"No!"_ I screamed as I drowned in a writhing mass of metal.

"Ava!" Did he expect me to save him? I couldn't even save myself.

A fresh wave of automatons were inches away before they collapsed, shimmering out of existence. The pressure around my throat vanished and left me gasping for air.

"Hey!" I leapt to my feet, livid Fury had activated the kill switch. How did this happen? A few days ago we killed this exact simulation; today was an utter disaster. I ripped off my mask, flinging my arms up in exasperation. "What the heck, Peter? You were supposed to be looking out for me. It would've been nice if you gave me a heads-up about the robot that blindsided me!"

Peter yanked off his mask, unveiling a flushed face and eyes of blue fire.

"You? What about me! I got buried out there!" He pointed where the robot mountain he had crawled out of once stood. "I could've used your help." Our argument raged on as we entered the conference room for debriefing. Fury was furrowing a rut into the floor, his head bowed and his hands clasped behind him, his scowl deeper than ever. We plunked ourselves down onto our seats, shooting daggers across the table. I crossed my arms, nails digging into my biceps, and swiveled toward the front of the room.

Fury stopped pacing and leaned forward, resting his knuckles on the table, the harsh fluorescent lights glancing off his head. My breath hitched as his one good eye darted between Peter and I, jaw clenched so tight it quivered. This was the calm before the storm...

And then it hit.

"That was the worst performance I have ever seen!" He pounded his fist on the table, and everyone jumped. "You two must learn to work together. If this was real life, both of you would be dead!" No one dared to breathe. Fury had never been shy with criticism he had never delivered the full brunt of until now.

He composed himself, and when he spoke again, his voice shook with suppressed rage. I realized, then, his name could not have been more fitting. "You two are partners. You must learn to work together. You need to communicate and have cohesion." He interlocked his fingers before splaying them across the glossy tabletop. "You need to have each other's back because your lives may depend on it. I don't care what's going on between you two, but you better resolve it soon. I expect you to leave your emotional baggage at the door and come here prepared to train - nothing else."

My face burned under the sympathetic eyes of my teammates who were, no doubt, relieved to be spared from the Director's verbal beatdown. I gulped, grateful Fury hadn't demanded either of us to explain ourselves. I looked at Peter; if you looked up _forlorn_ in the dictionary, the expression he currently wore would be there.

Fury flung a dismissive wave in our direction. "Get out of my sight - both of you. I expect much better next week because next time I won't be as lenient." He crossed his arms over his broad chest, addressing our comrades. "Sam, Luke, Danny! You're up. I hope you deliver a better performance than your teammates." As they entered the simulation chamber, Peter and I plodded to our respective locker rooms to get changed.

* * *

I dressed swiftly so I wouldn't encounter Peter on the way to my room. I didn't think I could stand him for another second.

A glimpse of myself in the mirror stopped me on my way out. I cringed at my mottled face and puffy eyes. I looked like crap - felt like it, too. Whatever. I skimmed a hand over my hair in a futile attempt to tame it into some semblance of a ponytail. Sighing, I slung my bag over my shoulder and shoved the door open.

Peter stood across the hall, his bag at his feet and his arms across his chest. Darn, that boy was quicker than lightening. I scowled, veering away from him and toward the far end of the hall.

"Ava." His hand encased my wrist like a shackle. Stiffening, I curled my fingers into a fist as my body tensed in defense mode.

"Let go of me."

He didn't. "Please, Ava. Look at me."

I reluctantly complied. "Yes?"

"Can we talk?"

"We _are_ talking."

His expression hardened. "I'm serious."

I sighed. "Okay. Let's walk and talk." I withdrew my hand and continued toward my room.

"I just want to say I'm sorry." He lunged toward the door to open it for me. _How gentlemanly_ , I thought as I stepped into another hall. If he thought his chivalry would exonerate him, he thought wrong.

"I know this apology is lame but please, Ava, I'll do anything to make it up to you."

His words stopped me in my tracks. I arched a brow. "Anything?"

"Anything." His eyes and voice were so sincere it was impossible _not_ to believe him.

Tapping my chin, I pondered his words a moment. "Fine…answer me this: why are you always so...chill? You make a joke out of everything." _Like the project_.

He replied without hesitation. "It's a coping mechanism."

"Coping mechanism?"

"Yeah...It's how I deal with the death of my parents and Uncle Ben's murder. Being Spider-Man." He shrugged. "You should try it."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"

"You're _waaaaay_ too uptight."

"I think any person would be ticked off if their partner made a mistake that ruined their final project and landed them in summer school."

"I'm not trying to diminish your feelings," he said, hands raised to appease me. "And again, I'm sorry. I made a dumb move, but it's not the end of the world. You have every right to be angry. But you hold grudges, Ava."

"I do not!"

He remained unconvinced as he lowered his arms. "You do, whether you want to admit it or not. Whenever something bad happens, you cling to it and never let it go. You gotta live a little."

My voice softened. He was right, but I didn't dare say so. "You're trying to say I should just forget about every bad experience I had."

"No. I mean you can't let your bad experiences dominate your life. I think about my parents and Uncle Ben everyday. Whenever I put on that mask, I'm terrified I may never come back and end up leaving Aunt May all alone. I'm a smart-aleck because distracts me from the dangers I face as Spider-Man, and I can't help it when it seeps into the other side of my life." I blinked. Were my eyes deceiving me? The boy standing before me wasn't the intrepid, wisecracking webslinger who spouted lame jokes and bad puns in the face of death.

Peter had struck the bullseye. We both suffered our fair share of tragedies and felt our maker had dealt us the short end of the stick more than we deserved. But the difference between him and I was that he relinquished that negativity while I thrived off it. Vengeance had consumed me since my father, Hector Ayala, was murdered by the ruthless Kraven the Hunter. I harnessed that rage, channeled it through White Tiger, and let it fester inside me. Maybe that explained why our perceptions of life were so vastly different.

I sighed. "You're right. I do have trouble letting go. I'm sorry, too. I guess I have a very strong type A personality."

He grinned. "I've noticed."

"So…" I rocked back and forth on my heels, suddenly coy. "Do you wanna hang out later? I feel awful for putting you on blast today."

His smile waned. "I'd love to, Ava, but not today. I've got business to take care of. Sorry."

"Oh." _Idiot_. What did I expect? Crime never took a day off, so why should he? Why should I? My body deflated with another sigh. I lowered my gaze to the floor, feigning interest in my shoelaces, hoping I didn't appear as crestfallen as I felt.

A light touch on my arm drew my eyes to his. "Is a rain check available?"

"Of course."

With his hand still on my arm he said, "I'm sorry you'll have to deal with summer school. This time, the second time around, I'll make sure to do it right."

The corners of my lips lifted into a smile. _Impressive_. This project showed me a side of Peter I never knew existed. Despite everything, I was glad we ended up as partners.

When he pulled away, my skin tingled with the phantom of his touch. He walked a few more paces down the corridor before he stopped and whirled toward me. "Oh, and Ava?"

"Hmm?"

"If you ever have kids, you'd be a great mom."

I grinned. "Thanks. You wouldn't make a bad dad, either."

 _The End_

* * *

 **A/N** : That's all, folks. Thanks for reading!


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